An NCIS Carol
by Unknown-Bliss
Summary: A Christmas Carol, NCIS style It's Christmas Eve at NCIS, and all Tony wants to do is go home. Unfortunately Gibbs wants him at work the next day. Can three other NCIS employees convince Gibbs to get in the Christmas spirit? Somewhat of a crack fic...


**...Hi. (Somewhat) new to NCIS fanfiction. This is just a little humor-y fic. Basically, A Christmas Carol, NCIS style, with Christmas fast approaching. I dearly hope this is an original idea, but I have no way of knowing, seeing that I've never perused the main NCIS fanfiction page. Anyhoo, I'm not really sure where this idea came to me, but I think it might've been during my half-awake state early this morning, during which, I dreamed of McGee, emerging from the elevator with a sack of presents in his hands. I'm not positive how that connects to A Christmas Carol, but I digress… **

**Disclaimer: Lucky for all you NCIS fans, I do not own NCIS or its characters.**

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Christmas Eve in the bullpen… Gibbs honestly didn't feel like going home. McGee had already returned to his apartment, afflicted with a terrible cold. Ziva had just disappeared. Gibbs, at that moment, didn't care where the Mossad woman was. All he cared about was the hot cup of coffee in his hands.

From his desk, Tony yawned. He had just finished up the report to their latest case. He stood up and stretched, ready to leave for his extended Christmas weekend off.

"Well, boss," he said, turning to his senior agent, "I'll see you in four days!"

"I expect you to be in here tomorrow, six a.m. sharp, DiNozzo!" Gibbs growled.

"But- but it's Christmas!" Tony cried. "I have to-"

Gibbs cut him off, "What? Go home to a loving family and a crippled little son? Right."

"What about the others?" Tony tried to reason.

Gibbs just shrugged. "They're gone already. I can't do anything about it."

The younger man gaped at his superior, trying to decide if he was serious. When Gibbs' expression didn't falter, Tony left, head hanging. Gibbs raised an eyebrow at the other man, shrugging again and returning to the last of his work.

"Now, that wasn't very nice, Jethro." Gibbs looked up to see Ducky, standing by his desk. For once, he'd actually not heard the ME coming.

"Bah. It was-" he began, his friend interrupting him.

"You should rectify the situation, lest you be haunted by Christmas spirits," Ducky warned, leaving in a very eerie manner.

"…That was strange," Gibbs muttered to himself, taking another drink of his coffee. He looked at his watch, seeing just how late it was. He still had plenty of work to do. Sighing, he arranged the file out in front of him.

"Hey, boss," said a voice from above Gibbs. Standing there was McGee, looking strangely healthy. What made Gibbs slightly suspicious was not the fact that McGee had returned to perfect health, or that he had for some reason come back to work, it was how he'd managed to sneak up on the older man.

"McGee? What are you-"

"Not important." Gibbs glared at McGee. "You need to come with me."

"McGee, what do you want? I am not going-"

Before he could finish, McGee grabbed his arm, pulling him from is desk. The younger agent had a surprisingly strong grip on Gibbs' arm, and he was leading him rather effortlessly. McGee led Gibbs to the elevator. They both entered and the doors shut.

"What the hell is this about, McGee?" Gibbs demanded, quickly growing impatient.

"I'm here to show you images of the past, so you might change your ways," McGee answered casually.

"My 'ways?'" McGee just looked at Gibbs as if he should know what he meant.

McGee began to whistle, shifting his weight from the balls of his feet to his heels. Gibbs was silent, not exactly sure what was going on with his agent.

Soon, the elevator dinged, the doors opening. Instead of one of the NCIS building floors Gibbs expected to see, the sliding doors revealed a cozy den.

"That's… different," Gibbs observed. He recognized the room. It was his old house, the one he lived in when he was a child.

"Come on," McGee prompted, stepping out of the elevator. Gibbs followed wordlessly. "Don't worry, they can't see us."

A miniature Leroy Jethro Gibbs sneaked down the stairs to a glittering Christmas tree. He eyed the presents longingly; his want of gifts conflicting with his deeply instilled sense of right and wrong. The young boy seemed to make a decision, sitting down on the floor with a large box nuzzled between his legs. Instead of opening it, little Gibbs just stared at it, unsure of what to do.

"What are you doing?" a booming voice asked. Spooked, little Gibbs turned his gaze to his father. The man was looming over him, casting a dark shadow around the boy.

"I wasn't going to open any presents early," the kid squeaked.

"Well why not?" his father chuckled.

"Because… I'll get in trouble?"

"Only if your mother finds out," the man squatted next to his son. "You can open one."

"Thanks! Oh wow! A toy boat!"

"Now hurry off to bed, or your mother will wake up. Then we'll both have hell to pay," Jackson said, winking. The young boy ran to his room, blood pumping at the thrill of being caught.

McGee walked back into the elevator, ushering for Gibbs to follow. His head slightly tilted and a confused look on his face, McGee commented, "You know, that was a lot happier than it was supposed to be…"

Gibbs chuckled at the memory, ignoring the young man.

The elevator dinged again, not two seconds later. As the doors opened, McGee exited, but he immediately reentered. His face was red as a tomato. "Eh heh, uh, how about we just go…" He began frantically pressing the up button.

Before the doors closed, Gibbs got a peek at the scene outside. He let a rare smile slip. "I remember that Christmas. I got together with Hannah Mulberry from down the street. Boy, was she-"

"Yeah, yeah, total bombshell, right. Let's just go!" McGee stuttered, trying to forget the image of the teenaged Gibbs hooking up with Hannah Mulberry.

As soon as the elevator returned to the bullpen, McGee shoved Gibbs out. The doors closed again, and the young man was gone.

Gibbs stood there for a few seconds, wondering what the hell had just happened. He walked slowly back to his desk and picked up his still hot coffee. He got one drink in before he was pulled backwards, back into the elevator.

"Hi there, Gibbs!" a bright voice greeted him. Abby stood two feet away from him, a wide grin on her face.

"Abby..?"

"Yup. I'm gonna show you some of Christmas present!" She pressed a button and waited for the elevator to move.

"Why-"

"You must change your ways," Abby answered, a mock sinister tone on her voice. "Cool, huh?"

"What is it with my 'ways' that is so wrong?" Abby shrugged, beginning to hum.

Gibbs sighed. Was he going insane?

The elevator dinged. "Oh, here we are!" Abby rushed out of the elevator, Gibbs following close behind.

"This is Tony's apartment," Gibbs noted.

"Astute observation," Abby replied.

"Abs, what are we doing here?"

"We're seeing Tony, in all his miserable glory."

"Oh."

They entered DiNozzo's apartment. Tony was lounged on the couch, drinking a beer. He was watching an old movie with a slightly bored expression on his face.

"Look at his pain. He has to go to work on Christmas," Abby moaned dramatically.

"First of all, no, he doesn't look like he's in pain, and second, it was only-"

"I hope this helps teach you a lesson, Gibbs!"

"A lesson on what?" he asked before Abby hauled him into the elevator again.

For several seconds, nothing happened. Gibbs broke the silence that had fallen upon the two. "Well?"

"According to the rules," Abby began, "We were supposed to make another stop, but… I don't suppose you want to see your ex-wives again?"

Gibbs raised n eyebrow at the Goth girl. She winced. "Yeah, I thought not. So, let's just go back to HQ."

Soon enough, Abby was pushing Gibbs out of the elevator like McGee had. She yelled goodbye before the elevator doors closed.

Once again, Gibbs stood there, waiting for something to happen. A few minutes passed, and nothing came. The agent decided to pack up and go home, seeing as he was being haunted by his agents in the bullpen.

When Gibbs got to his desk, he felt someone behind him, pushing him towards the elevator. He mentally groaned. A figure in a black cloak settled next to him, silent.

"And what are you doing?" Gibbs growled.

"I am-" a female voice began. She stopped herself. A thin, feminine, yet rough, hand poked out from under the cloak, pointing at nowhere in general.

"You're…? Ziva, you're _what_?"

"Gibbs!" Ziva cried, pulling down the hood. "I am not supposed to talk."

"You're not doing a very good job," Gibbs pointed out.

The woman glared at him, placing her hands on her hips. "I am going to show you some a scene from the future, fine?"

"Fine."

The elevator opened for what seemed to Gibbs to be the millionth time. Fog poured into the confined space. Ziva silently led Gibbs into the center of a cemetery. They walked around for several minutes before Ziva stopped. Ahead of them, a burial was going on.

"That's not supposed to be there…" Ziva muttered, eyeing the many people gathered around the lowering casket.

As soon as the congregation of people left, time seemed to fast forward. A lone gravestone marked the now-old grave. The two people walked to it.

"See?" Ziva said. "You're going to die."

"Obviously."

"I mean…"

"Says here, I'm going to be 97 when I die."

"Well, I must admit that I find that unexpected."

"Why?"

"Well, I brought you here to learn a lesson. How are you going to change your ways if you see that you will die old with many people who care enough to go to your funeral?" Ziva cried in exasperation.

Gibbs shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't know I was supposed to be learning something from this. I don't think I need to change my 'ways.'"

"I give up," Ziva groaned, pushing Gibbs back into the elevator.

The elevator ride seemed to take only a few seconds, and for the third time, Gibbs was pushed out of the small space. This time, though, the man fell on his face.

Gibbs woke with a start. He looked around the empty bullpen. Had he fallen asleep? Was that all a strange dream? In his hand, Gibbs still clutched the half-finished coffee. Had there been something in his coffee that had given him such a crazy dream? For the first time, Gibbs began to doubt the coffee he loved so much. A look of disdain on his face, Gibbs dropped the remainder of the drink into the waste basket.

Just then, the elevator opened, and Gibbs nearly threw something at whoever was coming out. Fortunately for Tony, the older man restrained himself.

Wait. Tony. "DiNozzo, what day is it?" Gibbs barked.

"Christmas, and you know that very well," Tony mumbled.

"Then what the hell are you in here for?" Gibbs got up, giving DiNozzo a good smack on the head.

"You told me to," Tony answered, a confused look on his face.

"Do you seriously think I would make you alone come in on Christmas unless we had something important?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes? Then why did you tell me to?" Tony whined.

"I was joking, DiNozzo. Don't you think I can joke too?" The look on Tony's face showed the younger man's doubts.

"Go home." Tony stared at Gibbs unsurely. "I mean it, go home!"

DiNozzo nodded, shooting out of the bullpen like a bullet. Gibbs fell into his chair. So he'd fallen asleep in the NCIS building on Christmas.

"Bah humbug," Gibbs muttered, gathering his things.

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And there you go. Finished at midnight. Goodie! It turned out longer than I expected, but I'm pretty happy with it.

**Review, please!**


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